Rise Of The Blacks
by naruto stormborn
Summary: the north is cold and unforgiving much like myself I am the north and the north flows within me let those foolish southrons keep the gold and their lions and their golden crowns. I will take what is rightfully mine from those who aren't worthy to wield it. I am the son of Brandon Stark and Barbery Ryswell but I belong to neither family no I am something more I am a black !


The Rise Of The Black Lord

 _ **Prologue**_

Westeros a land that was no stranger to war, it had been fought here for thousands of years men fought and died for one cause or another be it glory, wealth, or revenge however more often than not it was for a crown forged from gold and wreathed in jewels A single crown that for thousands of years Westeros was torn apart and divided over into seven different regions all controlled by a king.

First there was the Westernlands ruled by the kings of the rock house Lannister. The land was rich with bountiful mines of gold, silver and gemstones and for that the house of Lannister was considered the richest in all of the lands. The sigil for house Lannister is a golden lion on a blood red field and their words are "hear me roar" all though they have a secondary set of house words that serve as both a boast of wealth and a warning to other houses who would dare to act against them after all " A Lannister always pays their debts."

Next was the reach, it's fields were the most fertile in all of the lands and for that reason they had the most bountiful harvest out all of the regions. This in turn lead to them producing more food then they could eat and store a the rest allowing them to sell the surplus for a rather large profit. The lands of the reach were once ruled by house Gardener for hundreds of years until Ageon Targaryen flew into Westeros and burned king Mern Gardener and thousands of his men in an event that would soon become known as "the field of fire" where all three Targaryen Dragons where used at the same time for the first and only time during there crusade. The reach was gifted to the squires of house Gardener house Tyrell passing over several more deserving houses who had a stronger blood connection to house Gardener. The sigil for house Gardener is a golden rose on a green field their words are " growing strong" fitting for such an over ambitious house.

The third was the Riverlands a land that saw the majority of bloodshed brought by the greed and pride of arrogant kings And overly ambitious men. The river lands where situated in such a way that they where surrounded on all sides by a kingdom with greater armies then they could ever hope to field. This lead to the men and women of the Riverlands to be conquered constantly by one king or the other, occasionally rising up in rebellion and a king would rise from within the Riverlands to rule their own people only to either be killed by one who coveted their throne and crown, or on the rare occasion they would live a long life only to have their line die out a few generations later in one way or another. The Riverlands are currently ruled over by house Tully, a relatively new house founded almost three hundred years ago when house Tully assisted Ageon Targaryen in driving out the remaining Ironmen after their King Harren Hoare was burned alive inside his own castle with all of his remaining sons from the Riverlands and where awarded with the title of lord paramount for their service to the dragon king. The sigil of house Tully is a silver leaping trout on a blue and red field of mud, the words of house Tully are "family, duty, honor."

Then there was the vale a mountainous region with deep valleys carved between them. The vale was one of the most naturally well protected areas in all of Westeros with its protections being provided by the mountains of moon to the west and the shivering sea to the east. The vale was ruled over by the house of Arryn who had ruled the vale for thousands of years and continued to rule as lord paramount of the vale after Ageon Targaryens landing in Westeros. The Sigil of house Arryn is a blue falcon soaring over a white moon on a blue field, there words are "as high as honor"

The Stormlands where just as the name implied it was a land that was plagued by great storms that would rage for days on the years before Ageons landing in Westeros the storm kings of house Durrandon ruled over the region from their ancestral castle storms end. A strong hold that was rebuilt a hundred times over from the constant destruction that was done to its halls over the centuries by the wild storms that plagued the region and finally it was strong enough to withstand any storm that came its way with out being destroyed earning its name. The storm kings craved battle so it was only natural that they waged war often showing the fury of the storms. The kingdom of house Durrandon expanded from the bone ways of Dorne all the way to the blue fork. Though the male line of the storm kings along with house Durrandon went extinct when Argalic the arrogant decided he wouldn't bend the knee to Ageon and his dragons. In the end his arrogance led to his downfall when he refused to fight off Ageons bastard brother Orys inform behind his castle walls and instead meet him on the battle field and died fighting an inevitable Durrandon would survive through the life of Argalics' only child his daughter who would go on to marry Orys Baratheon forming the house of Baratheon who would go on to rule the Stormlands

Centuries to come. Their sigil is a black stag on a yellow field, their words are "ours is the fury"

Dorne is a vast wasteland a desert that is as harsh and unforgiving as the people that reside within its borders. Drone is much different from the majority of Westeros in the fact that it was never conquered by the Andals only the Ryonare queen Nymeria had ever successfully invaded and conquered Dorne. In the end she settled for marrying the king of Dorne abolishing the title of "king" or "queen" settling for the title "the prince" or "the princess" of Dorne. And just as the titles suggest the laws of inheritance are different in Dorne in the way that both males and females can inherit the kingdom of Dorne. The ruling house of Dorne is house Martell and just like their words they truly are "unbowed, unbent, and unbroken"

On the western sea of Westeros the is a large collection of islands aptly named the iron isles, both for their abundant iron mines and for the hard people it produces. The Ironmen or Ironborn as they prefer to be called are an uncivilized people who believe only in taking what they wish, often leaving bloodshed and death in there wake. One of the worst among the Ironmen was named Harren Hoare, or as his victims knew him as "Harren the black". He was a vile human u reveled in the suffering of others and had a superiority complex almost as big as his need for violence and bloodshed. He was known to torture and enslave all who survived his war path, though his greatest moment lead to both his legend and his down fall. Some time after he had conquered the Riverlands he ordered a castle larger and grander than any to have ever been constructed in all of Westeros. Five towers he commanded to be built, and so they were five towers stretching like fingers into the heavens in a monstrous display of black stone forged from the lives of thousands of men and women he enslaved from the Riverlands. He even ordered the monstrosity to be named after him. And so harden hall had been formed, even if it took three generations to do so. Thought with the way history tells it would seem that those high walls and tall towers made him far more comfortable in his throne than any wise kin should be, because while a million men could storm the walls of Harrenhall Dragons have wings.

The North is one of the constituent regions of Westeros and was a sovereign nation ruled by Kings in the North before the War of Conquest. The largest region of the Seven Kingdoms, the dominion of House Stark covers the entire area from the border of the New Gift, which is controlled by the Night's Watch, to the southern edge of the Neck far to the south.

The north is vast in size. While some say it is nearly as large as the other territories combined, in actuality it is roughly a third of the landmass controlled by the Iron region is sparsely populated, with vast wilderness, forests, pine-covered hills and snow-capped mountains, speckled with tiny villages and holdfasts. Its climate is cold and harsh in winter and occasionally it will snow in summer. The north has two major land barriers, the Wall to the north and the Neck to the south. The north is bound on each side by major seas, the Shivering Sea to the east and the Sunset Sea to the west.

Finally we have the last region of Westeros and the largest by far as well as the most dangerous for any and all who are nestled within her borders.

The lands beyond the Wall are primarily wild, untamed and uncharted. The climate is harsh and bitter, especially in the far north in the Lands of Always Winter. The region immediately north of the Wall includes the haunted forest, a vast taiga-forest which covers most of the area, extending from the Wall to the furthest lands of Thenn.

While no true roads exist, numerous game trails, paths, and old stream beds, called "ranger roads", are used by the Night's Watch and free folk alike.

The forest extends from the eastern coast to a large mountain chain in the west known as the Frost fangs. The Frost fangs extend an unknown distance to the north and are quite inhospitable. Notable features include the Giant's Stair and the Skirling Pass. The Milkwater, the great river beyond the Wall, has its origins in the Frost fangs. There are rumors that the northern Frost fangs contain hidden valleys, heated by volcanic activity, which are actually the most hospitable regions north of the Wall, and heavily settled by the free folk.

Southwest of the Frost fangs there is a narrow strip of land between the mountains and the Bay of Ice known as the Frozen Shore. Along the east coast is the Antler River, which flows into the Shivering Sea. The easternmost region beyond the Wall is the forested peninsula Storrold's Point, which contains the ruins of the only free folk city, Hardhome. Beyond all of these areas, in the furthest north, is the Land of Always Winter. The haunted forest ends and gives way to these truly polar regions, which are unexplored. The Others are rumored to originate in the depths of the Land of Always Winter.

This however is not the tale of a king or a great conqueror that came bringing with them fire and blood, nor is it the tale of a lord seeking glory or revenge for his fallen family. Nay this is the tale of a single man a bastard in fact achieving what should be impossible for a man of his birth and status. This is is story of Rodrick snow and his rise to greatness this is the story of how a man became a _**legen**_ _ **d**_.

 _ **275 A.C The Rills**_

Brandon Stark Heir to his lord father Rickard Stark, successor of Winterfell, and future lord paramount of the north was a man known by all as "The Wild Wolf" A man known for his love of conquest Both on the battle field and in the beds of young maidens through out the north, he was a man that may thought would be forever free and never strongly attached to anything save for his sword, but right now he was none of those things, in this moment he was to put it in simple terms a mess. His long wild raven colored hair swayed in the wind as he paced up and down the halls of the rills.. His normally steel Grey eyes that would usually shine with a sense of mischief when he was being entertained and froze with all the cold and unforgiving nature of the frigid north when he was angered where now filled with a sense of worry and panic. The reason for his current frantic state lies behind a door that is currently sealed shut but he he could still hear the faint wails of his lover from the other side of the door. Barbery Ryswell his first lover while she was not his first or only lover he cared for her far more than any of the other women he had bedded. He could hear her wails of pain as she tried to birth his child his _bastard_ into the world. A bastard that if he had his way wouldn't ever be considered as such. If he had his way he would marry His lady love and his child would be the heir of the north after him just as he was his fathers heir as his father was His fathers before him.

Another shrill scream brought him out of his thoughts and stopped his pacing in front of the door. How he wished he could rush through the very door that separated him from his lover and their child but that old Maester had barred the doors to prevent him and anyone else entry from the birthing room. A strong hand griping his shoulder forced him out of his frozen state causing him to spin on his heels only to be greeted by Lord Rodrick Ryswell, the father of Barbery and the lord of the Rills. His long brown hair was streaked with faint lines of Grey. And his face showing the first lines of aging.

"shell be fine lad. Shes a strong women and my daughter. Let the Maester do their job, the birthing chamber is no place for us men, both she and the child will be fine." He spoke.

"I Know this my lord but merer words will not put my mind to ease. Only seeing both her and our child will be enough to put me to ease."He replied in a frustrated tone.

These words seemed to ave a positive affect on the aging lord as a small smile began to creep onto his lightly wrinkled and normally sullen face.

"You truly care for her don't you" It was more of a statement than a question that rolled smoothly from the lords lips.

Before The young heir of Winterfell could reply the door that had been sealed for the majority of the early morning had swung open and the old wrinkled face of the Maester revealed its self in the poorly lit doorway. His face was creased with exhaustion though his eyes showed relief.

Brandon perked up when he say the Maester arrive.

"Is she alright. Is the child well?" he asked in rapid succession disorienting the elderly Maester.

"They are both fine my young lord Both young lady Ryswell and the bast..." he trailed off seeing the rising temper of the young stark heir. He as with most others through out of the north had heard of the tales of wolf-blood that flowed inside of the life blood of house stark, it was often whispered that Brandon stark had inherited it in its purest form. A tale that he did not wish to test

"Both lady Ryswell and the child are well my lord. She is however tired from the birthing and will soon need her rest, though she refuses took until she presents you with your son." he quickly amended

No further words where needed as Brandon stark rushed into the room that held his love and their child. As he entered the room he was greeted with the sight of a tired Barbery who despite her clearly exhausted state could been seen smiling down with an untold amount of joy at the bundle of cloth that was currently attached to her breast. She looked up and greeted Brandon with a smile that made his heart flutter with an emotion he couldn't describe.

" _shes just as beautiful as the day I met her."_ he thought to him self

"Brandon allow me to be the first to present to you your son Rodrick snow." she said as she held out the babe with weak yet firm and steady arms. He lord father laughing at the hearing the babe being gifted with his own name.

Brandon let out a slight gasp as he gazed down at the small babe. He marveled at the child he helped to create. He reached forward with shaking hands and pulled back the swaddle that covered the babes face.

" _this is what a true stark should look like"_ he thought with great pride.

True to his thought thee babe had a small tuft of soft black hair and a face that showed great similarity to his own. His face though still bearing the roundness of a newborn had a solemn look to it a trait that seemed to run strong within all men in the north and even more pronounced within the Stark line.

As he reached out to take the child from her arms the babes eyes slowly opened to reveal pale blue eyes the color of ice that seemed to stare at him with a sense of curiosity.

" _This child is my son. The one that should be my heir. If only father hadn't locked me into this foolish betrothal to that Tully girl, then I could give him all that he should have and Barbery more than just the dishonor of being the mother of my bastard." he_ thought with bitterness

seeing the look on her lovers face caused Barbery to grow frightened.

"Is there something wrong my lord?" she asked "are you not satisfied with him?" she spoke in a voice that continued to grow more frantic with each word she spoke.

Quickly snapping out of his thought he replied to her.

"No my lady he is perfect and I thank you for giving him to me." he finished his words with a kiss to the crown of her head

She smiled and laid back as sleep soon began to claim her. Brandon just smiled and continued to look down at the babe in his arms and made up his mind.

" _I might not be able to make you my heir or even give you my name  
because of the choices that father has made, But I promise you this my son you will one day do great things u are after all the son of winter."_


End file.
